Bella at Midnight (27 page)

AN ABRIDGED FIRST CHAPTER FROM DIANE STANLEY'S UPCOMING NOVEL

S
o there we were, all five of us, barreling down the road in the pitch-black dark, early on a Saturday morning. We were headed for the Allbright Academy, a school we'd never heard of till the week before, but which we hoped to attend in the fall.

Sounds crazy, I know. Looking back, I can't believe we ever thought it was a good idea.

But these weren't normal circumstances. It was almost as though fate had arranged for us to go to the Allbright Academy so we could discover the things that we did, and save the country from disaster. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

We pulled into the visitors' parking lot a little before eight.

Mom and Dad got out of the car. Wordlessly, Zoë and J. D. and I did the same. For about a minute we stood there in the parking lot, gaping speechlessly at the sight that lay before us.

I guess we were all expecting pretty much the same thing—a cluster of one-story redbrick flat-roofed buildings surrounded by playgrounds and parking lots. Since it was a boarding school, there would also be a couple of two-story redbrick dorms.

Instead, we were greeted by this unbelievably picturesque scene of broad lawns with trees and bushes and flowerbeds, with little paths winding through it, and a pretty big lake in the middle. Even this early in the spring, with the trees still bare, it was gorgeous.

“Yowza!” Dad said. “It's . . . it's . . .” Apparently struck speechless, he simply shook his head.

Mom removed the keys from his hand and opened the trunk so we could get our suitcases out. Zoë, J. D., and I would be spending Saturday night at the school, since their admissions testing took the better part of two days. I guess they wanted to make really, really sure we were smart enough to go there.

Rolling our bags behind us, we headed in silence toward the admissions building. There, waiting for us, was Allison, an Allbright senior who would be giving us a tour of the campus. It was mid-March, but it was cold that early in the morning, so she was bundled up in a white parka and ice-blue scarf. Shiny blonde hair cascaded out from under her matching ice-blue cap. She looked like she had stepped right out of a J. Crew catalog.

“Welcome to Allbright!” Allison said, displaying a set of perfect white teeth in an absolutely dazzling smile. I wondered whether her parents had spent a fortune on dentistry, or if she'd just hit the genetic jackpot. Understand: These were not just the usual straight teeth you get after putting up with years of braces—these were Hollywood teeth. Toothpaste-model teeth. I was weak with admiration.

“Is everybody warm enough?” Allison asked. “
Great!
Then let's get started. There's a lot to see and we need to get you back to admissions before nine.”

We followed as she led us around the far side of the admissions building and down a gentle slope. “This is the living part of the campus,” she explained, gesturing toward a cluster of large, elegant three-story buildings. “Each student is assigned to one of the cottages. That's where we live and eat our meals for the whole time we're at Allbright.

“Allbright was founded by scientists, as I'm sure you know. So they gave a lot of thought to health issues—wholesome food and plenty of exercise. Everyone here is extremely fit.”

I studied the few Allbright students who were out and about that early in the morning, and saw that Allison was right. They were fit, every single one of them—fit and absolutely gorgeous. Not a single one was overweight or suffering from acne or cursed with bad hair. They had perfect posture. It was like being at cheerleading camp!

“This way,” Allison said, leading us up a flight of flagstone steps to one of the cottages. There was a wooden sign over the entrance with incised lettering painted in gold. It said P
RIMROSE
C
OTTAGE
. Allison smiled as she turned the knob on the big arched door. “Welcome to Primrose,” she said, “my home away from home.”

The front hall opened onto a large, beautiful room filled with couches and cozy armchairs. “This is our common room,” Allison explained. “That's ‘common' as in ‘shared,' not ‘common' as in ‘falling below ordinary standards.'”

And no, it most definitely did
not
“fall below ordinary standards.” Mom was positively bug-eyed, pointing out the carved oak paneling, the oriental rugs on the hardwood floors, the leaded glass in the windows, and the genuine, gold-framed art on the walls. Even the ceiling was decorated with fancy plaster designs. It was, without a doubt, the prettiest room I'd ever seen.

Even more astonishing was how clean and orderly everything was—and fifty or sixty kids lived there? Where were the sneaker marks on the upholstery? The coats and backpacks on the floor? The Coke cans and pizza boxes?

“Down this hall is the dining room,” Allison said, ushering us into a cavernous space with tall windows that looked like the room where the Knights of the Round Table used to eat on special occasions—except for the fact that the Primrose tables weren't round (they were long and narrow). And, of course, there was the buffet station at one end. But these minor factors aside, King Arthur would have felt right at home in the Primrose dining hall.

Breakfast was in full swing. Remarkably, everyone was eating (and apparently enjoying) what I can only describe as health food: oatmeal, whole wheat toast, grapefruit, yogurt, that kind of thing. No Froot Loops or Count Chocula to be seen anywhere.

“The food here is totally awesome,” Allison said. “And very healthy. You'd be surprised how fast you lose your craving for junk food.”

Mom and Dad exchanged happy smiles.

“It's too bad we don't have time to visit
all
the cottages,” Allison was saying. “Each one is a little different, and they have their own unique features, like darkrooms or language labs—depending on the specialty of the house.”

“What do you mean, the specialty of the house?” Dad asked.

“Well, you know, the artsy kids live in Aster Cottage, and the techies are all in Sunflower. It's not official or anything, but it's pretty obvious.”

“So, what kind of kids live in Primrose?” asked Zoë, who was clearly dying to live there. Then again, so was I. Who wouldn't?

“Well, we're not as easy to categorize, but I'd say we're mostly outgoing, organized types. Active in student government. In fact, I'd bet there hasn't been a student-council president in the history of Allbright who didn't live in Primrose. We're into politics and world affairs. Hence, the newspapers.”

“But how do they know where to put you?” I asked. “I mean, how do they know you're a techie or an artist or a future politician?”

Allison laughed. “Trust me, they know everything about you. Or at least they will by Sunday afternoon, when they're done with the testing. Just you wait! They'll find out if you have perfect pitch or athletic talent or a gift for languages. They'll spot any learning disabilities you might have, they'll pinpoint your ideal learning style, and they'll know what professions would be best for you—even what college you should go to. It's what makes the school tick. It's what makes it possible for them to give each student an education that is perfectly tailored for him, or her.”

“That is just positively beyond belief!” Mom said. I could tell that whatever doubts she had about sending us to Allbright had now completely vanished.

And then we were jogging aerobically back in the direction of the admissions building, Allison apologizing for rushing us but reminding us that we didn't want to be late for the testing.

We thanked her and waved good-bye as she trotted away in the direction of Primrose.

We never saw Allison again after that.

But I, for one, never forgot her. She was the perfect Allbright product: smart, beautiful, accomplished, and confident—all the things I longed to be. And I remember wondering if it was the school that had made her that way.

If I got in, would Allbright work its magic on me, too?

Photo courtesy of the author

DIANE STANLEY
is the author and illustrator of beloved books for young readers, including
SAVING SKY
, which
ALA Booklist
, in a starred review, called “beautifully written” and noted that “parallels to our contemporary times appear on every page. . . . The young people manifest a courage few can emulate”;
BELLA AT MIDNIGHT
, a
School Library Journal
Best Book of the Year and an ALA
Booklist
Editor's Choice;
THE MYSTERIOUS CASE OF THE ALLBRIGHT ACADEMY; THE MYSTERIOUS MATTER OF I. M. FINE
; and
A TIME APART
. Well known as the author and illustrator of award-winning picture-book biographies, she is the recipient of the
Washington Post
–Children's Book Guild Nonfiction Award for the body of her work.

Ms. Stanley has also written and illustrated numerous picture books, including three creatively reimagined fairy tales:
THE GIANT AND THE BEANSTALK, GOLDIE AND THE THREE BEARS
, and
RUMPELSTILTSKIN'S DAUGHTER
. She lives in Santa Fe, New Mexico. You can visit her online at www.dianestanley.com.

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Cover art © 2006 by Bagram Ibatoulline
Cover design by Amy Ryan

B
ELLA AT MIDNIGHT
. Text copyright © 2006 by Diane Stanley. Illustrations copyright © 2006 by Bagram Ibatoulline. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

www.harpercollinschildrens.com

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Stanley, Diane.

Bella at midnight / Diane Stanley ; illustrated by Bagram Ibatoulline.—1st ed.

p. cm.

Summary: Raised by peasants, Bella discovers that she is actually the daughter of a knight and finds herself caught up in a terrible plot that will change her life and the kingdom forever.

ISBN 978-0-06-077575-9 (pbk.)

EPub Edition April 2014 ISBN 9780062044174

[1. Knights and knighthood—Fiction. 2. Princes—Fiction. 3. Kings, queens, rulers, etc.—Fiction. 4. Sex role—Fiction.] I. Ibatoulline, Bagram, ill. II. Title.

PZ7.S7869Bel 2006 2005005906

[Fic]—dc22